


Underneath the New Moon

by MarcellaDix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Shell Cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaDix/pseuds/MarcellaDix
Summary: After four years in a happy relationship, Bill and Hermione spend the summer solstice alone together - or so Hermione thought. She learns that in order to marry Bill, she needs to meet the approval of his Sire. Will their relationship survive the test Bill's Sire will set for her?





	1. Dusk

The sun was still bright when she stepped outside. It was close to midnight, but at summer solstice, the day never seemed to end. Looking down to the beach, she saw that Bill had lit a bonfire. The driftwood burned with bursts of green and blue, magnificent to look at. Hermione sighed. It was a beautiful night.

She walked down to the beach to meet her boyfriend. He was still busy setting out blankets and arranging a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She smiled. This would be the first summer solstice they spent together, just the two of them. They had celebrated the night in bigger groups before, usually with the Weasleys, Harry, and what Order members decided to come. Somehow, this summer solstice most couples had decided to spend it alone. Harry and Ginny would be lighting their bonfire in the backyard at Grimmauld Place, Ron and Lavender had gone to the continent to spend the night there, Arthur and Molly would be celebrating at the Burrow. Charlie had whisked Tonks away to Romania, and the twins had escaped to Merlin-knows-where with Katie and Angelina.

Hermione was delighted to be spending the night alone with Bill on the beach at Shell Cottage. She hoped for it to be a very happy occasion indeed.

When she reached Bill, he had just filled the two glasses with a generous amount of red wine. He drew her into a loving kiss and pressed one glass into her hand. They sat down together on the blankets. Everything was silent for a while, the quiet only interrupted by logs cracking in the fire and the waves gently breaking on the shore. Hermione revelled in the warmth of Bill's arm around her waist, his hand drawing circles on her skin.

When she had emptied her glass, Bill took it from her and put it in the sand before pulling her into his arms once more. He lowered her until they both came to lie on the blankets, him hovering above her and closing her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed her body, lifting her shirt to touch the smooth plane of her stomach, slipping underneath her skirt to stroke the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. Hermione gasped as his fingers shoved her knickers to the side and entered her swiftly.

Bill's fingers quickly brought her to the brink of an orgasm. The heat rolled over her in waves, building and building until it broke when Bill added his thumb to rub her clit. Hermione felt her walls clamp around his fingers, and from her lips burst his name with a sweet cry.

Bill used the time she needed to calm down to divest her of her clothes, kissing every patch of skin he laid bare. When she was naked and calm enough to enjoy the show, he slowly took off his own clothes. One by one, he popped the buttons of his shirt from their holes before letting it slide into the sand. Hermione knew her eyes to practically glow with desire as he lowered his hands to open his belt and shove off his trousers. When he stood in only his boxers, she interrupted him.

"Allow me," she whispered huskily.

She rose to her knees in front of him and delighted in the sight of him. She started at his feet and let her hands slide upwards along his legs and over his torso. Then, she stroked downwards again, her fingers gliding over the defined muscles of his strong chest and stomach until they hooked into his boxers. Lifting her head to smile at Bill, she pulled them down to his feet. He kicked them off and Hermione revelled at the hard length bobbing at her eye level.

She did not hesitate to close her plump lips around his bulbous head. Above her, Bill groaned. His fingers found purchase in her wild mane and held onto her head. Hermione was grateful that he was satisfied to simply have them rest there instead of grabbing her and taking his pleasure from her as she had heard her girlfriends talk about some men.

Bill was different though. She had no one to compare him to, of course. He had been her first and only, and she was glad that she such a fine man decided to stand by her. They had first met the summer of 1994, when he came to attend the finale of the Quidditch World Cup. She hadn't even been fifteen at that time, but he treated her like an adult anyway. Hermione still shook her head at herself when she thought of how easy it had been at the time to slip into a full-grown crush.

After that, each and every one of their encounters had just manifested and furthered that crush. Over their discussion during the summer after Voldemort's return she realized that her crush had developed into a sincere affection for the eldest Weasley son. A year later, she helped him care for his wounds from Greyback's attack when Molly let her and he wasn't talking to Lupin. She got to know him very well during that time, and when he kissed her for the first time she knew that he had come to care for her as well.

The time came to leave him though. The night the Ministry fell, she left with Harry and Ron on their mission to hunt down the Horcruxes. While they were still staying at Grimmauld Place, no longer headquarters for the Order, he accompanied Lupin when he came to offer his assistance. They argued that Remus was the closest to a relative Harry still had, and had been a mentor to him in a time of need before, but Harry, stubborn and proud as he was, would not have him.

Bill tried to reason with Ron that as the eldest, he was responsible for aiding and protecting him, and as a curse breaker had valuable insight into most obstacles they might encounter on whatever mission they were on. Hermione saw in his eyes that night that Bill very much wanted to aid and protect her as well, maybe even more so than Ron though she hated herself for the arrogance that thought betrayed. However, Ron rejected his plight to accompany them. Bill's eyes lingered on hers, his expression imploring her to be safe, before he and Lupin left.

Hermione felt desolate that night. Nothing the boys could say would cheer her up. She cried herself to sleep, late after Harry and Ron had already dozed off. She was afraid more than ever before in her life, afraid that she would not be able (or alive) to return to Bill and tell him she loved him. At first she was startled at the realization that she loved him, but soon acknowledged that it had been long coming. He probably knew already anyway.

All her tears were of no help, however, she told herself. She would strive to survive this war, but more important was securing the survival of everybody else; Harry, Ron, and Bill above all. Her parents were safely hidden away in Australia, and Bill could look after himself. Her highest priority now was the safety of Harry and Ron while finding and destroying the remaining Horcruxes. Deciding to pull herself together, if only for their sakes, Hermione fell asleep, tears still fresh on her face.

She would not meet Bill again until the worst day of her life. With Dobby's help, they had escaped Malfoy Manor, her barely alive and the loyal elf dead. Bill cared for her, healing her wounds as best he could, wrapping her disfigured arm in soft white bandages, and held her as she wept. He stayed with her the whole night. The boys slept late the next morning and did not see him slip from his own bedroom where they had bedded down Hermione the evening before. Nothing untoward had happened, of course, but neither she nor Bill were keen to explain to her two best friends why he had spent the night in her bed (or she in his, technically speaking).

The following days were spent planning their break-in at Gringotts. Bill would caution them to be very careful in their dealings with Griphook, but the boys did not want to hear about it. Hermione listened to him, but could not heed his advice as this was their only chance to retrieve the Cup of Hufflepuff from Bellatrix Lestrange's vault.

Bill grew increasingly frustrated, but Hermione took care to kiss away his worries every time they marred his handsome face. They had fewer opportunities to spend time together, as she was busy planning and plotting with the boys. Sometimes Hermione caught Luna looking at her or Bill with a weirdly knowing expression but decided not to ponder on it. She trusted Luna not to tell the boys about them, and after only a couple of days, it was time for them to leave anyway. Bill was even more reluctant to let her go than before, but she would not be deterred.

Later that day, when they were drying their clothes after having jumped into lake from the back of the dragon they had ridden out of Gringotts, Hermione realized that she still hadn't told Bill that she loved him. It mattered little though, she knew, as she remembered the look in his eyes every time he kissed her good-night. His expression had told her that he knew, and that he felt the same towards her.

After that, she had become fully absorbed in their hunt. When she saw Bill standing in the Great Hall in the aftermath of what would later be called the Final Battle, very much alive and mostly unharmed, she felt her heart burst in relieve. She ran to him, flew into his arms, and he lifted her to bestow the most passionate, loving kiss on her she had ever received. They cared little for the surprise of his family and their friends, so immersed were they in assuring each other and themselves that they were alive and well.

After that, everything developed quite quickly. Ron sulked for a while, as he had seemed to expect to get together with Hermione himself, but had settled into a renewal of his relationship with Lavender soon after. Harry was too absorbed in his own relationship with Ginny to care much for what Hermione did with her life. The rest of the Weasleys were delighted at having her in the family. When Luna heard that they had made their relationship official, she only smiled serenely.

Having no family to go back to, Hermione moved into Shell Cottage with Bill. That first night they spent there together, alone at last, she gifted him her virginity. Their lives settled into a comfortable rhythm. Bill continued to work for Gringotts, his appointments limited to the UK so that he would always be home for dinner. Hermione took her NEWTs in a crash course, made possible by Professor McGonagall who succeeded as Hogwarts Headmistress after Professor Snape's surmise. She aced them (naturally) and decided to study Wizarding Law by correspondence course with the Salem Institute. And now, four years later, they were still very much the happy couple they had started out as.

Hermione was brought back to the present as Bill scratched her scalp in a way that sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Licking around the large head in her mouth, Hermione soon let her lips slide downwards along the long hard shaft. She was unable to fit him fully into her mouth, and even after having attempted to deep-throat him a couple of times was uncomfortable doing so. What she couldn't accomplish in depth, however, she made up in tightness. She sucked in her cheeks and heard Bill gasped in pleasure above her. Wrapping one hand around the base of his length and massaging him there, Hermione started to bob her head up and down along Bill's rather impressive member.

Bill became fully absorbed in the pleasure she was giving him, but after a while, before she could suck him to completion, he withdrew from her lips. When Hermione mewled her discontent, he chuckled.

"Patience, love," he said.

Then he held out his hand to her. When she took it, he drew her up and embraced her into a sensual kiss. Before the passion could get out of hand, Bill led her into the water. The Celtic Sea was still quite cold, even at the height of summer, but they stayed in the shallow water. The waves hardly reached their upper legs when Bill stopped. He sat down in the sand so that he was immersed in the water from mid-torso downwards. He tugged on Hermione's hand he was still holding until she came to stand right in front of him, her legs parted, feet placed on either side of his thighs. Another tug on her hand and she lowered herself to him, onto him, until she finally knelt in the sand underneath the waves, his hard cock nestled in the wet heat of her canal.

Bill's face split into an expression of awe at her tightness, still surprising him after all the years they had been together. Hermione knew her own face probably mirrored his as she revelled in the sensation of being spread wide open by his sizeable cock. It took her only a few moments to adjust to his size, and she began to slowly raise her hips until only the head of his member remained inside her, only to sink down onto him to the point of him bottoming out in her sheath.

She repeated the motion again and again. After a while, she could not contain her sighs any longer, and the night air was filled with contented mewls, pleasured gasps, and soft cries. Unwilling to remain passive any longer, Bill soon grabbed her behind, his fingers digging into the tender skin of her round cheeks, and supported her in her motions along his shaft.

Their pleasure mounted quickly, and their movements became frantic soon. Desperate for her to find her release along with him, Bill slipped his hand in between their moving bodies and rubbed Hermione's clit. Only a few thrusts later and she could not go on any longer. Hermione's lips parted in a passionate cry, her walls clamping around his cock and her fingernails digging bloody half-moons into his back as she came. Bill drove into her another two or three times until he buried himself in her and filled her with several long spurts.

They remained sitting in the sand for a few moments, not moving from their loving embrace and listening to each other's ragged breathing calm down. Their bodies radiated an impossible heat, but when the umpteenth wave broke on Hermione's back, she shivered. Bill took this as his clue to help her up before rising to his feet himself. Once more grasping her hand in his larger one, he led her to the shore where they lay down on the blankets at the merrily crackling bonfire. The heat emanating from the flames quickly warmed their bodies as they stared into the darkening skies. It was the night of the new moon, a rare happening at a summer solstice.

Nestled in the security of Bill's arms, Hermione finally dared give voice to the question burning inside her.

"It is a beautiful night," she started.

Bill hummed his agreement.

Taking all her famous Gryffindor courage, she asked, "Are you going to ask me tonight?"

She could feel Bill turn his head towards her. She moved her own face to meet his, twisting her neck in the awkward position. When her eyes met his, he answered in a soft voice.

"No."

Hermione turned away from him to hide the tears that had come to her eyes. They both knew the question she was waiting for. It wasn't that she was one of those empty-headed girls whose only goal in life was to find a husband, settle down into their kitchen and pop out kids in between cooking meals and cleaning the house. No, she wanted to live as an independent witch, powerful in her own right, following her career, changing the world, and making a name for herself. But she had no wish to do so alone. Ever since she had met Bill, she had been longing to manifest her loyalty to him, to show her love to the world by taking his name.

Alas, he had yet to ask.

"Were you going to ask me tonight?" she asked again. Disappointment laced her voice. Sometimes Hermione hated that she could not hide her emotions as well as others, even though Bill always assured her that it was one of the many traits he loved about her.

"No," he answered again.

Hermione drew a ragged breath, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.

A finger on her chin turned her face to his once more.

"No," he reiterated, "but the night is still young."

Confusion filled Hermione at those words.

"What do you mean, Bill?" she asked. "What could possibly happen tonight to change your opinion?"

He chuckled.

"My opinion doesn't need changing love," he said. "I very much want to marry you. I have wanted to marry you for quite some time now."

"I don't understand," Hermione interrupted. "If you want to marry me, then why -"

"There is somebody I want you to meet first," Bill continued, "as it is custom among my people."

"Oh please," Hermione huffed, "is this a pureblood thing? I have met your family time and again, they've known me for years and as I see it, they all agree to our union. Who else could I possibly need to meet yet?"

Bill chuckled again, though his face turned serious.

"No, this is not  _'a pureblood thing'_ ," he said, miming air quotes. "I want you to meet my Sire."

* * *

_I want you to meet my Sire._

The words rang in Hermione's ears, but she could make no sense of them.

"I don't understand," she said once more, hating herself for having to repeat herself at all in general and this sentence in particular. "How can you have a Sire? You aren't even a full werewolf, so nobody could have sired you."

"That's true," Bill agreed, "but there in some instances, when a wolf with neither Sire nor Alpha joins a pack, their Alpha becomes his Sire in hierarchy."

"Like an adoption, you mean?"

"You could say that, if you wanted to put it into human terms," he conceded reluctantly.

Hermione's confusion grew.

"But Bill," she said, turning her body to his so that she could look at him more comfortably, "you  _are_  human. So why are we even talking about this at all?"

Bill sighed and reached for their wine glasses where he had put them in the sand earlier. He filled them and motioned for Hermione to sit up before pushing one of the glasses into her hands.

"This might take a while, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable," he offered with a half-smile. Then he waited until Hermione had taken a large sip from her glass. Watching her delicate neck move as she swallowed, he began his story.

"When I had been mauled by Greyback that night at Hogwarts, I was afraid of what was to become of me. Werewolf nature is documented sketchily at best and outright falsely at worst. There were no documents of cases similar to mine, and we could only guess at the implications my wounds held.

"In my fear, I turned to a werewolf for help. He did not know what would become of me, either, but was willing to be there for me with any questions or requests I might have. And thus, he became my Alpha."

"Wait a moment," Hermione interrupted, incredulous. "You were looking for help and in turn he demanded your fealty? What kind of bastard does it take to make such demands of somebody in need?"

"No, you misunderstand me, love," Bill countered. "It wasn't like that at all. By asking for his help, I had willingly submitted to his guidance in all things. He became my Alpha because I needed a leader, not because he wanted a follower.

"When Greyback, who was considered my Sire even if he had not turned me, was killed during the final battle, the eldest of his remaining Prodigies became kind of a substitute Sire for the rest of us. This werewolf happened to be my Alpha. Due to his leadership over me, I accepted and welcomed him as my Sire."

"Don't get me wrong," Hermione spoke up once more, "this is all highly interesting. I mean, as you said, there is so little written knowledge about werewolf behaviourism, and I would really love to get to know more about that. But right now, I just want you to get to the point of why you have put off asking me to marry you for so long."

Bill graced her with a smile, even though she was impertinent and demanding in her impatience.

"I will get to that soon, love, I promise.

"Now, as I am mostly human I would normally be exempt from following Lycan laws. But as I willingly submitted to an Alpha and subsequently chose to follow him as my Sire, I joined a pack, and all pack members heed Lycan laws. I could not  _not_  follow these laws if I wanted to.

"As it is, there are many ancient traditions among werewolves. Most of those evolve around relationships between wolf and wolf, or between wolves and other creatures. Among the wolf-wolf-relationships, there is a clearly defined hierarchy. At the top of them all, there is True Mateship. It is extremely rare and needs to be protected above all else. Right beneath that comes the Pack, and only after that come Chosen Mateships.

"It pains me to say this, love, but you are not my True Mate. I don't know whether maybe don't recognise you as such because I am not a full werewolf, or whether I don't have a True Mate in this world. But believe me when I tell you that I love you, and that I choose you to be my Chosen Mate."

"Wolves mate for life, don' they?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Bill nodded serenely.

"But that means, that – " She swallowed thickly. "That if you find your True Mate, you will leave me for her?"

"No!" Bill almost shouted, frantically shaking his head. Cupping her face in his one hand not holding a full wine glass, he waited until her eyes met his once more. His heart clenched at the hurt and insecurity he saw there.

"No, love," he repeated. "From the moment I choose you as my Mate, I renounce all other potential mates, be they true or otherwise. And that's where the Sire comes into play."

Hermione perked up at his words. He loved that about her, that thirst for knowledge. She was a woman after his own heart, always eager to learn, eager to improve.

"Lycan law decrees that Pack will come before Chosen Mateship to prevent wolves from choosing to early and making a mistake in their choice. Many young werewolves are eager to find their Mate and to begin the rest of their lives with them. This leads them to a hasty decision and they are forced to spend decades with somebody not truly fitted to them. As a conclusion, their whole Pack suffers. A Pack member's Mate is untouchable, so even killing somebody truly unsuited is not an option – not that it should be," Bill quickly assured Hermione as he saw the shocked expression on her face.

"That is why a Chosen Mate has to be approved by the werewolf's Sire and/or Alpha. Lycan values keep the werewolf from approaching his Sire or Alpha in hopes that he will approve his choice while certain that the other would reject his request. Thus, they can never purposely work around the disapproval of one of their leaders. In my case, Sire and Alpha are one, so you will only have to find the goodwill of one Lycan."

"But why, Bill?" Hermione asked. "Why do I need to be approved by a werewolf at all? I mean, I understand that this is important to you, but could they actually keep us from getting married if we so wished?"

Bill sighed heavily.

"No," he answered, "at least not in the way you are thinking of marriage. We could still stand in front of some Ministry official, speak our vows and be bonded as a witch and a wizard can be bonded. You, however, would not assume the position of Mate by Lycan law, and I would be free to seek out other females without repercussions."

When he saw that she was about to protest against him questioning his own loyalty, Bill quickly continued.

"Of course, I don't believe that I would be prone to cheat on you simply because I could," he said. "However, if by some miracle there  _was_  a True Mate for me and we  _did_  meet, I would leave you without batting an eye. Much more importantly, though, is the fact that you would be in danger from other werewolves. When I said that Mates are untouchable for Pack members, I did not mean it only in the aggressive way. I am too low in my Pack's hierarchy to keep others from bedding you, and I think you are with me when I say I do not want that.

"As it is, I very much want to have my Sire's approval before even asking you for your hand in marriage," Bill concluded finally.

He drank his wine to relax his voice which had become a little sore during his long explanation. All the while, she could feel his eyes on her as she twirled the delicate stem of her glass between her fingers while she pondered his words, thinking hard about what to do next.

"How?" she finally asked. "How do I meet his approval?"

Bill appeared reluctant to disclose that knowledge to her, as if he was afraid of what her reaction to his next words might be. Hermione willed herself to be open to what she needed to do in order to have a happy and healthy marriage with Bill.

"He will try you," he eventually confessed.

Hermione was not quite certain she could believe her brain as it brought her to a solution of what his words could possibly mean that defied common sense.

"Sample you, so to speak," Bill continued. "He will lie with you."

The words took a few seconds until they reached her brain, and she took a few extra seconds to check and double check that she had indeed heard him correctly.

"WHAT?" she shouted. "HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY MAD?"

Bill visibly shuddered at her loud voice. She knew his sensitive ears probably hurt from the volume, but could not bring herself to care, not with the reason for her shouting being what it was.

"Please explain to me," Hermione spoke quietly, forcing her voice to a lower level dramatically resembling the quiet before the storm, "why you would want me to sleep with your Sire when the whole reason for me doing so is for me not to have to lie with your Sire?"

Bill winced at her harsh tone.

"I do not want you to sleep with my Sire per se, love," he tried to explain. "I want to follow Lycan tradition, and I want you with me as I do so. This means that in order to make an educated decision about whether you are fit you be my Mate, my Sire will lie with you. It will help him determine whether – no, not whether –  _that_  you are able to satisfy me and bear my children.

"I will not ask you to sleep with him, as I have no right to request that from you. I know that you hold loyalty above all else, and I would never ask you to forfeit that loyalty for me, even if it is your loyalty  _to_  me. I would, however, ask you to meet my Sire with an open mind. If you decide to submit to his test of your suitability as a Mate and sleep with him, you will do so in the knowledge that I approve and support you in this. I will be with you the whole time, you could get out at any point."

"Let's just say, hypothetically, that I did sleep with your Sire but suddenly wanted out in the middle of the act. Would that mean instant disapproval?"

Bill swallowed thickly.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And that would mean that any chance of you marrying me in the Lycan sense of the word would be forfeit?"

"Yes," Bill admitted, his face a mask of sorrow.

"And if I only met with your Sire but was unwilling to  _lie with him_ , as you say?"

"We would not face disapproval," Bill was quick to explain. "It would merely mean that you delayed your test. We could attempt to seek his approval at some other point."

Hermione pondered his words for a moment, her brows furrowed as they always were when she was deep in thought.

"Tonight," she suddenly said. "You said you might still ask me  _tonight_."

Bill nodded slowly, as if unsure of her reaction.

"You will bring me to him?"

Bill hesitated.

"No," he said. Her shoulders sagged in relief, but the sweet moment lasted only for a second.

"If I am right," Bill said, "he is already here."

Bill had to snap her still half-full wine glass out of her hand as she shot up and looked around in panic, forgetting her nudity in her haste.

"He is," a deep voice spoke from the shadows to their left.

Two bright-green eyes flecked with gold appeared in the darkness. Stepping out of the blackness came a man, tall, muscular, and ruggedly handsome. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth to contain the surprised gasp that tried to escape her lips as she recognized the man in front of her.

"William," the man acknowledged her boyfriend. From the corner of her eye, she could see Bill bow his head in deference.

"Hermione," Remus greeted her. "It is a pleasure to officially meet you at last."


	2. Dark

_"Hermione," Remus greeted her. "It is a pleasure to officially meet you at last."_

Hermione stood stock still for a few moments. Both Remus's appearance from out of the dark and the fact that he was Bill's Sire had taken her completely by surprise. Of course, she berated herself, she should have known that they had been talking about Remus the whole time. Even if Bill had not called his Sire by name, Hermione was well aware that in the time following Greyback's attack he had been talking to Remus a lot. From that knowledge it should have been a small gap to the realization that Lupin had become Bill's mentor, but it that small gap had obviously escaped Hermione's otherwise almost flawless logic.

While she stood in shock, she felt more than saw Lupin's eyes roam her body. When it hit her that she was standing there stark naked and not even attempting to cover her nudity, she met the realization with a weird sense of impassion.

"Professor," she half-greeted, half-scolded Lupin.

He shook his head.

"No," he said.

The single syllable took her by surprise. Behind her, she could hear Bill chuckle softly.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"I haven't been your teacher in years, Hermione, nor will I ever be your professor again, seeing as you've almost finished your studies. As it is, you addressed me by a wrong title," Lupin explained.

Hermione felt instantly berated, and this was a feeling she disliked from the bottom of her heart. Her contempt for his words helped her find her spirit again.

"If you think I will call you  _Sire_  or  _Alpha_ ," Hermione spat out the words, followed by a short snort, "you are very much mistaken,  _Mister_   _Lupin_."

The man in question outright laughed at her. It was a hearty laugh that seemed to come from deep within him, and something inside Hermione warmed against her will.

"Oh, I see why you like this one, William," he spoke after he'd caught his breath again. "I doubted whether a kitten was a good companion for a wolf, but now that she's shown her claws I believe you two are well matched."

"Perfect," Hermione hissed, "then we can end this farce here and now. You just give your official approval or however this works, and Bill and I can get married. This saves us the whole sex-issue that you want to force me into, Mister Lupin."

Remus sobered a little, though his mirth was still visible in his face. It made for some lovely laugh lines that accentuated his handsome face.

"First of all, this is not a farce but an ancient tradition the reasoning behind which I believe William has already explained to you. Secondly, because of this tradition we cannot simply skip the bedding part. There is no way for me to approve of you if I cannot form an educated opinion of your suitability.

"And lastly, and this may be even more important than all the rest: nobody forces you to do anything. If you are willing to be approved of as William's Mate, then you will willingly submit to the test and accept everything that it entails. This is your choice to make, and nobody can or will push to into it."

Hermione was furious.  _Nobody forced her to do anything?_  Oh yes, this wasn't emotional blackmail at all.  _You love Bill? Then you will sleep with his superior in order to marry him. You don't want to sleep with his Sire? Well, then all you can get is a marriage on paper only, meaningless to your husband and his people._

While she was still raging inwardly, Remus stepped closer to her. When he was mere inches from her naked body, he leaned down until his nose almost touched the sensitive point where her shoulder joined her neck, and he inhaled deeply. Then he hummed in satisfaction. The deep sound sent shivers through Hermione's body until the tips of her toes tingled.

"She smells of salt, sin, and seed," Remus assessed. "You have done well, William."

Hermione jerked away from Lupin and took a few steps back until she stumbled into Bill. From the corner of her eye, she could see him smile and bow his head at his Sire's words.

"What does that mean, he has done well?" Hermione demanded to know.

Remus, however, did not address her but her boyfriend.

"Have you not explained to her the importance of this night?" he asked.

Bill shook his head no, and Remus sighed as if disappointed.

"I will educate her then," the werewolf proclaimed. Then he perused Hermione once more. Still shivering under his assessing gaze, she almost didn't notice that Remus was taking off his clothes until he was as naked as she and Bill were.

"She needs to be washed," he said after he had thrown all his clothes into the sand. "Come with me."

At that, he grabbed her hand and led her into the water. His grip was unrelenting so that she could not help but follow, but gentler than Hermione would have expected. Turning to look back, she saw Bill follow them at some distance, his eyes never leaving her. He appeared shockingly unfazed at the situation considering that his very naked girlfriend was following his very naked mentor into the water.

But then again, so was she. A little relieved that at least Bill would be having an eye on her the whole time, Hermione turned to Remus again. She used the opportunity to check him out undisturbed. Her gaze wandered from his muscular calves upwards to peruse his shapely behind and further to admire his defined back criss-crossed with scars from the many fights he had won.

Apparently feeling her eyes on his person, Remus turned around for a second and smirked at her. Hermione was quick to look somewhere else, but she knew the werewolf had not been fooled. Looking back to the shore, she realized that they had gone quite far into the sea. The water already covered her breasts, slowing their progression, and a couple of steps later the water became too deep for her to stand. Remus, who stood at almost a foot taller than her, had no such problems.

"Wait," she softly called to him.

He turned around to see why she had stopped. Seeing instantly that she could not reach the seabed anymore, he offered, "Wrap your legs around my waist."

"I will do no such thing," Hermione said, affronted. "You and I are both naked, and I will not bring my body parts anywhere near your body parts, no matter what your expectations of this night may be."

Remus sighed. The sound made her feel as if she had said something extraordinarily stupid.

"Then at least hold on to my shoulders, Hermione," Remus said.

Not seeing an alternative to doing what he asked without offending him, Hermione relented and grabbed his shoulders. She tried to keep herself at arm's length from his body, as Remus had made her hold onto him from the front. As he walked forward and the waves pushed against her back, however, Hermione soon felt her arms weaken and finally had to be satisfied with keeping herself a couple of inches from Remus's front which proved difficult enough.

When the werewolf came to a stand, the water reached to his upper torso, the waves lapping at his shoulders. Fear suddenly gripped Hermione, but not of him.

"Remus," she asked, fright ringing in her voice, "this is pretty far out…"

She trailed off, but Remus seemed to understand what she wanted to say.

"Water may not be a wolf's natural habitat," he said, "but even out in the sea, I am still very much a predator. My aura will keep any and every creature off that might mean you harm."

Hermione relaxed at his words, but he had not finished.

"Thank you for using my name, finally," Remus added.

"Well, we are standing naked in the Celtic Sea – I could hardly continue to call you Mister Lupin, now could I?" she joked. "And what is it with your obsession with names anyway?"

The werewolf took her hint at what she actually wanted to know.

"There is power in a given name. That is why some try to obscure them, as you saw Tom Riddle do. He tried so hard to hide his real name that at some point even his self-assumed anagram became a taboo."

Hermione interrupted.

"Well yes, people were afraid of him, to such an extent that they did not even dare to say his name, but isn't that what he wanted? For people to fear him? And Tom Riddle isn't quite as imposing as Lord Voldemort is."

"You are partly right," Remus granted. "But that people were afraid of him was merely an added bonus. Tom Riddle masked and hid his name to avoid somebody gaining power over him. A good example might be a Muggle fairy tale I once heard about – Rumpelstiltskin, is it?"

At Hermione's nod, he continued.

"Calling Rumpelstiltskin by his name gave power over him, enough to break the magic behind a binding contract. Bonds, as you probably know, are an ancient and very powerful magic. In Voldemort's case, he bound the Death Eaters to him. Had they known his name, they might have managed to break free from the confines that came with their Dark Marks.

"It works the other way around as well. If somebody freely gives the knowledge of their name, they can be drawn into a bond. This is old magic and not educated at Hogwarts, which I find to be a severe lack in education, but many purebloods know about it. That is why they usually have a middle name and abbreviate their first name into some short form. Just think of the Weasleys and you will see the truth of my words."

Hermione did just that. Counting through the Weasley children, she had to acknowledge that Remus was right. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and Ginny, all nick names. Fred and George had no real way of shortening their first names, but how often had she heard them call each other Freddie and Georgie, or worse – Gred and Forge? And she didn't even know if they had a middle name, but as all their sibling had one, she had to assume they did as well.

"So that is why you call him William," she concluded. "Because it gives you power over him and the bond between you?"

"No, not at all," Remus was quick to deny. "I don't want power over him or our bond, but  _for_  our bond. We acknowledge our relationship by addressing each other appropriately. He calls me Sire as he still needs and defers to my guidance."

"Even to me, he only spoke of you as his Sire," Hermione realized. "But why then do you call him William and not Prodigy, or whatever the correct term is?"

The look Remus gave her at the question made her want to take back the words. He spoke before she could attempt to apologize.

"I thought," he said, his voice dropping quite a few degrees in warmth, "that William had explained to you that I did not want him as a follower."

"Well," Hermione drew out the syllable. "He said that you did not agree to help him for that particular purpose that he would become your inferior."

Remus sighed.

"I see now that his explanation obviously lacked some details," he said. "I apologize for that. To give you the facts, I did not want William to follow me. There was a war raging around us, and he was already bound to so many parties – his family in blood, Gringotts in his work, Albus in his loyalty, the Order in his convictions. I was trying to save him from entering another bond as too many bonds can tear a person apart. They all feed from your magical core. Taken separately, the amount of energy they draw from you is no danger at all. But collectively, they become draining, possibly and ultimately to a point at which they suck you dry of your magic and you are left empty.

"William's need for guidance was strong, though, as was his magical core. I implored him to rethink his choice, but he was too immersed already to pull out. Fortunately, the more willing you are to invest in a bond, the less it will demand of you. That is why many of Voldemort's followers felt a weakening as their devotion to their lord waned, but this is beside the point.

"To answer your question, I call him William because I want to strengthen the bond that is our friendship. By calling him Prodigy, I would invoke my right to rule over him, but this isn't something I desire per se. I uphold Lycan values and traditions, and in those instances I need William to defer to me and will enforce his submission if necessary, but I would rather it did not come to that. I would much rather have him as an independent and powerful friend, rather than an empty-headed submissive puppet.

"Now, I hope I have managed to appease your curiosity. If I remember correctly, I believe we originally came here to wash."

Hermione, still pondering all the new knowledge she had gained and fighting to take it all in and store it in the orderly compartments that composed her brain, jumped when Remus's sure hands grabbed her by the waist. Of course, jumping in the deep water where one's feet don't reach the seabed is an awkward affair, and all she managed was to slosh some water around and almost lose her balance and sink as she forgot to hold on to the werewolf's shoulders. He simply smiled at her. Not a smirk, but an assuring smile that immediately calmed her worries. Taking all her courage, she managed to grace him with a small answering smile of her own.

Remus seemed encouraged by that as his hands now wandered to her back and upwards to her shoulders. From there he started a rubbing motion in wide circles down her back again, kneading here tight muscles into relaxation as he went. By the time he had reached her behind, she let out a relieved sigh as all the tension seemed to have disappeared. Thus relaxed, she didn't even complain when Remus kneaded her bottom cheeks as well, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her round globes, going so far as to spread her cheeks and let the water wash her cleft.

Hermione had let her head fall forward onto Remus's shoulder, so deeply relaxed did she feel. She became fully absorbed in his ministrations on her back, that her determination to not let her body touch his front slacked. She drifted off into an almost dreamlike state, where her mind was emptied of all things but the pleasant sensation of warm hands massaging her body.

When Remus dipped a finger into her tight muscle, wiggling a little to get the first knuckle through the puckered rose, she shot up. The movement freed her behind from the exploring finger, and she stared at the werewolf, a furious expression on her face. He, however, only chuckled.

"Turn around, Hermione," he said. "I need to wash your legs and it's easier when you lean back into me."

She stared him down for a few more seconds, or at least tried to, which was hard enough with him being a full-grown werewolf and thus not easily fazed by a young woman's angry gaze, and was made even more difficult by the fact that his warm smile was calling for an answering smile from her, and her facial muscles followed his call, as much as she willed them to remain in a furious expression.

When she felt her mask of rage falter, she quickly followed his request, so that she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a full-fledged smile. She could hear him chuckle, though, and knew her attempt to be futile.

Leaning back into his hard chest, she braced herself on the strong arm that came to hold her daringly high on what only just counted as her waist. Her breasts were pushed up from his forearm, but Hermione could not bring herself to protest as she felt Remus's hot breath at her ear. She let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder once more and told herself it was only because it was late at night and she was tired. She knew she was lying to herself when the werewolf peppered soft, feather-light kisses along her neck and shoulder, and she gave a sweet shudder that travelled her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Remus placed his hand on the outside of her right thigh and began to rub downwards from there in the familiar circular motion from before. Hermione's legs fell open, seemingly of their own volition, and she could feel the cold water fresh on her heated core. The werewolf did not go there though, at least not yet, but rather tugged on her knee as he reached it, encouraging her to lift it. When she complied, the rubs continued down her lower leg until she felt his fingers slip between her toes to wash them as well. Her giggles at the tickling sensation brought out a throaty chuckle from the man behind her, and she could feel the vibrations from his chest travel through her body.

He spent more time with her toes than needed, Hermione guessed, only to torture her into laughter. Remus appeared to instinctively know her limits though, and just when Hermione felt the tickling came close to reaching the point of becoming too much, he let go of her foot. She stretched her leg until it rested beside the other as Remus now wrapped his right arm around her chest, the other repeating the actions from before on her left leg.

When her legs appeared to be deemed appropriately clean, his free hand started at her shoulders again. It slid along her collarbones, first one then the other, only to slip deeper still and knead her tender breasts. Drawing circles around her areolas, he gave a quick pinch to each of her nipples, not hard enough to hurt but more than enough to elicit a surprised gasp from her.

Not deterred by her quickened breathing, Remus left her breasts to roam her flat stomach. Hermione felt him dip a tip of his fingers into her belly button but could not concentrate on the sensation as his hand slowly but surely travelled closer towards her mound. Before he could reach her wiry curls though, he grabbed her waist to turn her around to face him once more. The discontented mewl that escaped her lips met no chuckle this time, as his eyes displayed a smothering flame of burning desire.

Hermione swallowed thickly, well aware that she desired his touch as much as he appeared to desire touching her. She locked her eyes on his and her legs around his waist as he had demanded what now appeared an eternity ago. Her smooth breasts pushed into his strong chest, the heat of his skin caressing the soft mounds that had become cold from their exposure to the surrounding water. Hermione felt his hard length rest against her stomach, the tip nestled safely between them.

She left just enough space between the two of them so that Remus could comfortably reach around her behind and slip his hand upwards between her legs. If she had expected him to only wash her outwardly there as he had the rest of her body, she was proven wrong as he slipped a long finger into her tight canal without much preamble. None was needed as she was already dripping wet, and the thick digit could pump into her with torturously slow motions.

She pushed her hips downwards to increase the rhythm or at least force him into her more quickly but Remus would not be deterred. He continued in the same tame rhythm.

"Tell me, Hermione," he asked, only a hint of his desire audible in his voice. Hermione was jealous; she never managed to mask her emotions that well. "Did William Mark you?"

"What?" Hermione asked, her brain completely mussed up with the rhythmic thrusting of his finger. Sensing her befuddlement, Remus withdrew his finger. Instead of granting her time to collect her thoughts, though, he merely added a finger and was now pumping into her with two of his delicious digits.

"What?" she reiterated, but even as her body struggled to accommodate two thick fingers, her brain managed to catch up a little. "You mean if he bit me? No, I think I would've noticed that. Ah –"

She gave a surprised gasp as Remus's fingers shot up into her with more force than before. The sensation sent pleasant shivers through her core and Hermione took a leap closer to her impending orgasm.

The werewolf's face spread into a smile at her words, only to become serene again a moment later.

"Hermione," he asked solemnly, "will you allow me to Mark you?"

"What significance would that carry in the Lycan society?" Hermione asked. Concentrating on sentences of this length became more and more difficult the longer Remus worked her pussy.

"It would be a public claim on you, or as public as I decide it to be. It would identify you as under the Pack's protection, and under my personal protection as well." His fingers continued their pumping motion without skipping a beat as he spoke. "In human terms, you would become kind of an affinal relative, close to our hearts but not of our blood."

"And my – ah! – relation to you would be what?" Hermione gasped the question around the rhythm of his slow thrusting.

"You would be a mate with a lower case M. Not a fixed constant, and not protected by Lycan law as such, but deemed untouchable by custom if not by decree. Kind of a casual lover, one might say."

"WHAT?" Hermione fumed. "You would make me your mistress when all I want to do is marry Bill?"

To her irritation, Remus chuckled.

"Yes, you could put it that way, if you wanted," he said. "But that is not my intention. I believe that William will not Mark you while I haven't deemed you suitable yet. Even when he does Mark you, two Marks send a stronger signal than one, as a werewolf would be mad to touch a human under the protection of two Lycans from another Pack. Also, I am asking you for purely selfish reasons. I have never Marked a woman before, and I would love to leave a lasting impression on your unblemished skin."

Hermione snorted bitterly at that. Her skin was far from unblemished. Her chest was marred by the vicious scar Dolohov had gifted her at the DoM, and she did not even want to think of her disfigured arm, courtesy of the Dark Lord's mad bitch.

"If you must make outrageous demands of me, Remus," she spat, "at least grant me some dignity and refrain from mocking me."

She made to withdraw from him, but his hands were locked onto her body, his left holding her up by her upper thighs, two fingers of the other not stopping in their pumping into her wet core.

"I apologize if I have offended you, Hermione," Remus verbally back paddled, though his expression was far from relenting. "It was not my intention to mock you. I realize that I misspoke, but I simply meant to say that you are beyond beautiful to me and I would love to be the first to leave my Mark on you, before William can claim you as his."

"Am I not marked enough, Remus?" Hermione shot back, unwilling to accept his apologetic words. "The scar on my chest shows me as a defenceless victim, the word on my arm as an inferior minority; would you mark me as a werewolf whore as well now?"

She shoved at his shoulders, willing him to let go of her. He extracted his fingers from her tight sheath to rest his right hand on her thigh, further supporting her against him, but did not release his hold on her. Tears sprang unbidden to Hermione's eyes as she realized that her attempt to escape his grasp was futile, and her whole body stiffened.

"Please," Remus began, but Hermione cut him off.

"No, Remus," she said, "I have done enough listening for one night. I wish to learn about Bill's other life as part of a Lycan society, but as I understand it, the purpose of our meeting tonight is for you to assess whether I am a suitable companion for your Prodigy.

"Here is what I propose to happen now. I will prove to you that even in the height of my fury, I am still willing to please my partner. I will prove to you that I can fuck in anger and still satisfy my husband. I will prove all that to you right now, and right after we're done, you're going to tell Bill that you approve of his choice and that he is free to marry me if he so wishes. At no point are you going to sink your teeth into me or I swear to Nimue, you will regret it."

When she had finished her rant, Remus nodded gravely, his face in a mask of sorrow.

"I confess that we demand much from you. I have seen how happy William has become throughout the years with you by his side, and what a fine man you have helped him grow into, probably more so than I have. For that alone, I will grant your wish to do this your way."

"Shut up and fuck me already," Hermione hissed.

Grabbing onto his shoulders once more, she did not wait to sink slowly onto his cock when he had positioned it at her entrance. She forced herself onto him, shoving his length into her until he bottomed out. He stretched her well, a little more than Bill always did, and Hermione dismissed the regret that bubbled up inside her that Bill was no longer the only lover she had ever taken.

Before she could rise upwards again, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Mentally counting the hands currently touching her body, she started when she turned up at three. Turning her head, she gazed into Bill's deep blue eyes, barely visible in the darkness of the night.

"Halt, love," he whispered. "This will not do."

Hermione burst into tears.

"Oh please," she sobbed heart-wrenchingly, "I have just brought myself to finally fuck your Sire and now you come here to tell me that I'm doing it wrong? What will be next – you don't want to marry me anymore because of this horrendous infidelity right before your eyes?"

She barely heard him through her sobs, but he brought his head close to hers and spoke directly into her ear.

"Shush, love, and do not fret," he said. "You misunderstand me. Look up into the skies and tell me what you see."

Emotionally too tired to talk back anymore, Hermione did as he asked and raised her head to gaze up into the night sky. The sight made her breath hitch. Stars littered the black plane generously. The three of them were far enough away from civilization for no light to pollute the darkness and hinder their view of the sky.

"It is beautiful," she said.

She knew that only two or three hours later, the sun would rise above the horizon to mark the shortening of the days.

"It is a new moon," Remus supplied.

"A new moon at summer solstice," Bill continued, "marking new beginnings. This won't occur again for many years, and as we spend this night we will spend our time until the next cycle begins. Please, love, do not cry, for this is a night of rejoicing and celebration. I wish to bring you only joy, and so does my Sire tonight. Accept our gift for what it is, a sincere desire to bring you pleasure, and nothing more. Can you do that for me?"

Hermione nodded, her tears already beginning to dry on her awe-stricken face.

Soft kisses peppered her shoulder, Bill's tender lips lovingly caressing her skin. Remus's hands encouraged her to raise her hips, and she followed his lead. He helped her settle into a tame rhythm. She concentrated on the more than pleasant sensation of his cock sinking into her hot sheath, stretching her tight canal, only to retreat and subsequently repeat the motion.

"So tight," the werewolf whispered. "So flexible. So eager to accommodate. You will bring much pleasure, even after birthing William's cubs," he complimented.

Hermione glowed under his praise, not really registering the words but understanding their meaning. Forgotten was her rage from before as she was filled with joy, and with a rather sizeable cock.

"I can smell him on you, you know," Remus continued while maintaining his measured thrusting. "I washed every trace of him from you, but I can still smell him. He left his mark, though not outwardly."

He paused for effect, waiting until her eyes met his in curiosity.

"You are carrying his cub, Hermione."

His words hit their mark.

"What?" she gasped, her surprise not wholly unpleasant he noticed. "No, it can't be, we were so careful –"

"A new moon, Hermione," Remus reminded her. "New beginnings. A new chapter. A new life. Magic is powerful tonight, I can taste it in the air, overriding precautious measures to pave the way for the fulfilment of our true heart's desires. You and William want to start a family, and the ancient magic of summer solstice made it possible. This is a night for the fruition of happy unions, a night of prosperity and reproduction. Before the night is over, you will be carrying my cub as well."

"I – what?" Hermione asked, bewildered. Too lust-fuddled was her mind to even inwardly berate herself for having to ask this far too often this night. "How is that even possible when you say I'm already newly pregnant with Bill's child?"

"If both mates are willing, a third wolf can enter a union until the bitch bears a multi-sired litter. It is rare, but not impossible."

Choosing to let it go that he inadvertently called her a bitch, she asked, "How do you know Bill and I are willing?"

Remus chuckled.

"William trusts me, and you trust him. You are a natural mother and are reluctant to deny my wish. I am too old and too weary to find a Mate. I will never have cubs if you reject me. I will accept your choice either way, but please know that nothing would make me happier than having you bear and raise my cub. I am a constant in William's life already, and would gladly become a constant in yours as well. My child would live with you and William and would love you two as his parents, but would know me as his father. I will support you and cherish you and be there for you whenever you need me. I will care for our child and any children William will beget on you. I will love you as a Pack member and the mother of my child. Please, grant me this, and I will forever worship you."

Remus shifted to improve his grip on Hermione's thighs, and she gasped in pleasure. The new angle worked miracles for her, and she neared her orgasm with seven-league boots.

"Yes," she cried between raggedly drawn breaths, "yes, Remus, I will bear your cub. Now bite me."

The werewolf almost stopped his thrusting in surprise.

"No, Hermione, you don't really want me to –"

"Remus Lupin," she shouted, on the brink of orgasm, "Mark me now or Merlin help me, I will bite your head off and give it to the flubberworms to digest very slowly!"

The threat was as tame as only an angry kitten's threat could be, but Remus understood her to be sincere in her demand. He lowered his head to suck on her right nipple, sucking the soft skin of her mound into his mouth and nibble on the hard nub. His ministrations helped Hermione tip over the edge, and when she fell into an abyss of pure ecstasy, Remus sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her right breast. Hermione's lust-filled screams turned into a wolfish howl as she found the approval of her Mate's Sire.


	3. Dawn

_Hermione's lust-filled screams turned into a wolfish howl as she found the approval of her Mate's Sire._

* * *

Hermione was floating in post-orgasmic bliss. Stars were dancing before her eyes. She let herself sink into the fluffy cloud that was utter relaxation.

Reality, however, lapped at her in gentle waves. She ignored them for a while, unwilling to be drawn from her little paradise, but eventually was returned to the present. Looking around herself, she determined that the stars she had been seeing were, in fact, actual stars, numerously yet innumerably gracing the black sky. A thin sliver of pink light had crept up to the line where sea met sky, marking the dawn of a new morning.

 _A new chapter_ , she remembered.  _A new cycle. A new beginning._

The words returned to her, as did her understanding of where she was. The waves that were silkily breaking on the cool skin of her back were of the Celtic Sea, where she was standing wrapped in Remus's embrace, him being still tightly cocooned inside her hot canal. On the shore, so far away now, she saw the remains of their driftwood bonfire, smaller now but still burning bright, bursting blue and green flames now and again as the salt crusts on the logs caught fire.

A little to their left stood Bill, tall and vigilant, her silent sentinel. She offered a timid smile which he brilliantly returned. He strode towards them and Hermione left the werewolf's embrace to swim to her boyfriend. Remus let her go without a word of protest, knowing she craved the love of her partner now.

Bill scooped her up in his arms, meeting her lips in a reverent kiss, and walked them towards the shore. Hermione glanced behind them so see Remus following at a small distance, much as Bill had done with her and the werewolf before. Satisfied that he would not leave, she returned her gaze to the wonderful man carrying her. Feeling her eyes on him, Bill looked down to her and smiled, his expression practically radiating joy, and the sight filled her with such a delight that she couldn't keep in the bell-like laugh that bubbled upwards from her heart to fill the night air.

When they reached the shore, Bill gently lowered her onto the blankets, lying down next to her. In the background, she could make out Remus as he fed more driftwood to their bonfire, but paid him no mind. Bill filled her focus now, her love for him leaving no room for any other thoughts or emotions.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand tracing circles on the flat of her stomach. He leaned down and kissed her belly, close to her button, and gently rested his cheek there. She giggled from his long hair tickling the undersides of her breasts as he faced away from her. She could feel his lips move against her skin, whispering words of love to the life growing inside her. She could not understand what he was saying, but then again she didn't need to. All that mattered was his loving devotion to their children.

When he was finished, Bill turned his head and inspected her right breast. His eyes filled with tears at the sight, though his face was split into a smile.

"Thank you," he whispered against her chest.

"You are most welcome," a deep voice answered him from beside them, and Hermione felt the sand shift as Remus came to sit with them on the blankets.

"You don't know how much this means to me," her boyfriend continued. "You were the first, you could have –"

"But I didn't," Remus cut him off. "She is  _yours_. I would never take that from you."

"Please," Hermione asked, her eyes meeting Bill's, "explain to me?"

"You are a mother now, carrying Remus and my cubs. As such, Marking you on your breast carries a lot of weight. Most women's breasts are more or less asymmetrical, the left usually being a little bigger than the right. That Remus Marked your right breast, even though he had the free choice of where to Mark you, shows that he is willing to submit to me in our family, placing the claim his child has on your nurture beneath any children I may sire on you. This is… it's…"

Bill trailed off, burying his face in her soft stomach once more, too moved for words. Hermione looked to Remus, mouthing the words ' _thank you'_  and receiving a silent ' _you're welcome'_  in return.

They lay in silence for a while. Bill moved to rest alongside Hermione, and she was nestled safely between the two men, though Remus kept a respectful distance to her body. Together they watched the sky burst into beautiful colours; light pink clashing with a deep orange, intertwined with flashes of bright purple and mellow grey. As the sun rose above the horizon, Remus spoke.

"William," he said in a solemn voice, "I approve of your choice of Mate. May she make you happy, grant you children, and stand loyally by your side till the end of your days. I wish you two all the best."

Hermione was startled by the words. She had assumed that the approval had already been given silently, but understood the importance and weight of putting it into words.

"Thank you, Sire," Bill answered. The men stood and embraced in a manly hug, patting each other on the back.

"I swear to Merlin and Morgana,  _William Arthur Weasley_ ," Hermione spoke up lightly, trying to release some of the tension that had crept up on them with Remus's approval, "that if you start calling me  _Mate_  from now on, I will hex your bits off."

The men laughed at her threat and the tension broke, though Bill looked a little sheepishly, as if he had seriously contemplated to call her  _Mate_  before she had forbidden him to do just that.

"Only if you won't call me  _William Arthur Weasley_  ever again," he countered, quite convincingly imitating her voice.

Hermione readily agreed. "I would like to call you William, though," she confessed. "It has a far more distinguished ring to it than Bill, and Remus helped me understand the importance of a given name. That is, if you don't mind?"

Bill – no,  _William_  – leaned down to kiss her lovingly on the lips.

"Of course I don't mind, love," he assured her. "Coming from you, it sounds really sexy. Just don't go complaining on me if I demand you to say my name over and over again."

"You won't have to ask me to do that if you make me scream your name alright," Hermione winked. "Preferably in pleasure," she added as an afterthought.

The three of them erupted into laughter, and found themselves unable to calm down for a long while.

"I believe, William," Remus said as they finally managed to catch their breath and regain some semblance of seriousness, "it is time for you to call me Remus."

Hermione's eyes bulged and she heard Bill gasp in surprise.

"But Sire, I -"

"No, William," Remus interrupted him softly. "I will always remain your Sire in function, but I wish to step back from that position in name. You are to be married, and your loyalty belongs with your Mate."

"Higher than Pack," Bill whispered.

"Higher than Pack," Remus agreed. "But it is more than that. You will start your own family now, and you will be a leader to them all. As such, you become Alpha to your family."

Hermione could not remain silent any longer.

"You will be family, too, Remus," she promised softly.

Remus bestowed on her a brilliant smile.

"Thank you, Hermione," he answered, "this means more to me than you can probably imagine. However, William will be patriarch, whereas I will be a respectful bystander, much as you might want to include me. I will defer to him in all things."

"But you will be a father, too," she said. Bill nodded his agreement.

"No," Remus said, shaking his head with an air of regret. "I will be a Sire to my cub. You, William, will be patriarch to all of Hermione's children. They will call you father and look up to you for guidance. They will live under your roof, play in your garden, eat at your table, follow in your steps. My cub will know me as their Sire, but will grow up as one of your children. You will make no difference between them, or I will be there to chastise you."

"As will I," Hermione chimed in, shooting Bill a warning look that still managed to convey her love and support. Remus nodded to her in thanks.

"As it is," he continued, "you will stand above me – as it should be. I value your friendship highly, William, and would like you to call me by my given name."

Bill stood in silence for a while, his brows furrowed in deep thought. A moment later, his whole face lit up as he came to a conclusion.

"Thank you,  _Remus_ ," he said, "I would be honoured to call you by your given name."

The werewolf laughed in relief, and enveloped Bill in another tight embrace. When they let go of each other, the men came to sit on either side of her once more. Bill's arm around her shoulders, his hand on her belly, and her feet nestled safely in the warmth of Remus's lap, Hermione revelled in the comfortable cocoon that was the two men's loving devotion to her.

Bill nuzzled the slope of her neck with his nose, his hot breath ghosting over her naked skin which immediately erupted into pleasured goose bumps. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he voiced the words she had been longing to hear.

"Marry me?" Bill whispered.

Hermione gave a choked sob. On the edge of her vision, she saw Remus concentrate hard on the sight of the waves breaking on the shore, able to hear their conversation due to his fine hearing, but unwilling to disturb their moment.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Yes, William, a thousand times yes."

He kissed away the joyous tears that rolled down her face, and on her finger he silently slipped the ring he had been hiding in a box underneath the now empty wine bottle the whole time. Hermione leaned further back into him, and together the three of them watched the sun rise to herald a new chapter in their lives.

* * *

Their marriage was a quiet affair, or as quiet as it could get with Weasleys in attendance. They had only invited family and close friends – so, naturally, the wedding party counted almost fifty people, not even counting the children.

Their bonding ceremony was a traditional one, the two of them speaking ancient vows as the sun set, marking the beginning of Samhain. It was believed that celebrating their union on the harvest festival would grant their marriage bountiful prosperity.

Remus stood as Bill's best man when he took Hermione to wife. He had already bound them as Mates on Lughnasadh, a little over a month after the summer solstice. Bill and Hermione had manifested their union in the waves of the Celtic Sea once more. Later, when Hermione asked Remus about it, he gladly explained.

"When it comes down to it, life can be reduced to two things: water and salt. More than half of your body consists of water. Salt runs in your blood. You sweat water and salt. You cry water and salt. For a long time, you would be able to survive on water and salt alone.

"To cherish life means to cherish water and salt. To give life means to worship water and salt. That is why all important acts need to happen surrounded by water and salt."

" _Salt, seed, and sin_ ," Hermione remembered. "That's what you said when you sniffed me at the summer solstice."

Remus nodded, appreciative of her quick thinking and precise memory.

"William had lain with you minutes before," he said. "From the salt on your skin it was clear that he had done so in the water. Had he bedded you on land, you probably would have still become pregnant due to the magic of the new moon, but to take you in the sea practically guaranteed success. I commended him on choosing the safe path."

Hermione wasn't satisfied, though.

"I could have just sweated a lot, and that's why I might have been covered in salt," she countered.

Remus outright laughed at her.

"Fair try, Hermione," he chuckled, "but you forget one essential fact: I am a werewolf. If I could smell William's child on you when it was little more than one single seed nestled in one of your eggs, I can distinguish between the different flavours of salt any time, without failure, don't you think?"

"Oh shut it, you," she laughed, good-naturedly slapping his shoulder.

This night, they danced under the waning moon, still round from the full moon a few nights before. At midnight, they said their good-byes to their assembled quests.

Remus was the last to bid them farewell. He drew Bill into a manly hug and spoke to him, his voice too low for Hermione to understand. As they parted, Bill nodded and Remus clapped him on the shoulder one last time before turning to Hermione.

She rested her head on his strong chest, his arms enveloping her in a warm and loving, though outwardly very much appropriate embrace. They stood like that for a few moments, revelling in the nearness of the other. Remus had carefully kept his distance since the summer solstice, but a bond had been formed and demanded to be fed with gentle touches and affectionate hugs.

"Be happy," Remus finally whispered into her ear. "You have given him so much, Hermione,  _are_  giving him so much. Let him cherish you in return."

"I will," she promised. "Thank you, Remus. Be safe, until we meet again."

He smiled as she joined her husband. Together, they closed their hands around an ugly old vase, gifted to them by some more or less distant Weasley relative, which they had immediately chosen to function as a portkey. Cheers erupted around them as the vase glowed blue, and they were whisked away to their honeymoon. The last thing Hermione could see were two bright green orbs flecked with gold.

When they landed, the first thing she noticed was the smell of salt. Bill had kept the location for their honeymoon secret, and Hermione now looked around in curiosity, dying to know where they were. The soft sand underneath her feet gave her an idea of the countryside, but it was the rising sun that gave her a clue as to the time zone.

"Oceania?" she guessed.

"Welcome to Malaysia, love," Bill said. "Now let me worship you."

And with those words, he swished his wand to disrobe her, swept her off her feet and into his arms, and carried her into the sea.

* * *

She heard the door open and somebody enter the room on soft feet. Bill came to sit on the chair next to her bed, watching the baby boy hungrily suckling at her left breast where her husband had chosen to Mark her on their wedding night. The thin scar of his teeth, now faded to a light silver, was only partly visible underneath the child's head. Their daughter slept peacefully in a crib close to the bed, Hermione's hand resting on her belly to assure her of her mother's presence.

"Thank you, love," Bill whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "They are beautiful."

Hermione didn't lift her eyes to his, her watchful gaze never leaving the boy she was feeding, but Bill could see the smile on her lips widen at his words.

"We have done well," she agreed.

" _You_  have done well," a deep voice sounded from the door.

Remus entered the room to stand next to Bill. She felt pride at the praise in his voice. Fourteen hours of labour had taken their toll on her, but their beautiful children were worth it.

From outside, they heard a commotion; shouts and laughter spilling into their room.

"The boys want me to go out and celebrate," Bill confessed reluctantly, "even though I told them I didn't want to, and I'd rather –"

"Go," she said. "You deserve this. You have just watched the birth of your two eldest children, you should celebrate with your brothers."

When he still looked in doubt, she added, "I need to rest anyway, and the children are asleep or as good as. Please, I want you to have this night. Merlin knows when I will urge you to go out and leave me alone with the children again."

He smirked at her joke, but was yet reluctant to go.

"I will watch over them, William," Remus promised.

At that, Bill finally gave in and left the room. From inside, Hermione and Remus could hear the jubilant shouts of the Weasley brothers, followed by steps from multiple pairs of feet walking away from her room.

"Thank you, Remus," Hermione said softly, lifting her eyes to meet his. At his questioning look, she elaborated. "For Emilia. Guessing from Molly and Arthur's luck with trying for a daughter, I might have had to pop out five more children before William and I finally had a girl."

Remus chuckled.

"I can smell the difference, and William probably can as well. But how did you tell them apart?"

"Well," Hermione drew out the syllable, "as I said, the Weasley genes were quite a strong indicator. Also, Leo attached to my left breast at once, even though I tried to place him at my right at first. Of course, those two hints by themselves are no way to be certain, but you forget one thing:  _I am a_   _mother_. I will  _always_  be able to tell my children apart."

Remus chuckled and kissed the top of her head, the vibration travelling through her body.

"I apologize, Hermione," he said. "I still forget sometimes what a brilliant woman you are."

Hermione simply smiled up at him.

They watched the children in silence for a few moments.

"So," Remus said, "Leo and Emilia?"

Hermione looked to him, worrying her lip between her teeth, an expression of uncertainty on her face.

"William gave me free rein," she explained, "but nothing is set in stone yet. I thought to name them William Leontes and Emilia Diane, but we still have the chance to change at least her name before we sign her birth certificate."

Remus pondered the names for a second.

"No," he finally decided. "I like it. It makes sense to name William's child after him, and I like the references to  _A Winter's Tale_  – I trust you not to treat your daughter like a handmaiden?"

Hermione laughed.

"No, of course not," she assured him. "And she is  _your_  daughter as well as mine, Remus."

Remus's expression grew serious.

" _I_  know that, and you and William know that as well. She will know me to be her Sire, but you two are her parents. We need to be careful with what we let the outside world know, though. I don't want her to suffer for having a werewolf as her father. Nor would I want you to be made out to be some scarlet woman or something. People are always fast to assume, rather than ask and try to understand."

Hermione nodded her assent.

"Diane." Remus practically tasted the name. " _Huntress_. Thank you for that, Hermione."

"You will teach her?" she asked.

Remus nodded solemnly.

"Rest," he demanded gently. "I will watch over you."

She leaned back into the pillows, snuggling Leo closer to her chest. Remus leaned over Emilia's crib to lift their daughter into his arms. He came to sit on the comfortable chair at her bedside. The last thing she heard before her eyes fell closed was Remus whispering  _'I love you'_.

Hermione fell asleep with a smile on her face, knowing that as much as his words were meant for Emilia, they pertained to her as well.

* * *

Platform 9 ¾ was filled with the steam emanating from the Hogwarts Express. Children were running around in chaos, trunks were bounced into the shins of unassuming bystanders, owls hooted, toads croaked, and cats meowed.

One such cat was sitting on top of her daughter's trunk, ready to be sent off to Hogwarts for the first time. The feline was an exceptional specimen, of a rare new breed from the States. Being a Lykoi, she resembled a werewolf in feline shape. The beautiful creature had been a gift from Luna for Emilia's eleventh birthday, accompanied by a card saying ' _To remind you of your roots'_. How Luna had known that Emilia was Remus's daughter, and that he and William still called Hermione a kitten from time to time, completely escaped their knowledge, as usual with all things Luna.

Persephone, as the girl decided to call her, never wandered far from Emilia's side. She was beautiful and lithe, highly intelligent, and loyal to the core – in short, she possessed all the traits Hermione valued in Remus as he did in her; traits that she and William had aimed to encourage in all their children.

They stood with the other Weasley families, a big cloud of people chatting together and mussing over those children that were to be sent off to Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny's kids were still too young, as were Ron and Lavender's. But Percy's daughter would be two years above Emilia and Leo, and Fred and George's kids were going to Hogwarts for their second year, Katie and Angelina having given birth within days from each other. Charlie and Tonks's relationship had remained childless so far, the two of them roaming the world in a wild concubinage – mostly to spite Molly, Hermione guessed.

Hermione smiled as she saw William bodily hold back their younger sons, Theodore and Elijah, to keep them from mounting the train after Emilia and Leo. Their eldest children left with few parting words and a solemnly anticipative air. Leo chased off after his cousins, while Emilia stood by the door to listen to Remus's last minute advice.

Of course, she would be seeing loads of him at school, as Minerva had offered him back the position of DADA professor. He had declined the last couple of years as she asked him every summer, pleading with him to come back and teach, now that Voldemort's curse had been lifted from the subject. He had invented ludicrous reasons for having to put it off for another year, as he could hardly tell Minerva that he wanted to be able to spend several days a week with Hermione and William's children.

Remus had kept his promise, the one he made Hermione when he had pleaded with her to bear his child that one summer solstice twelve years past. He took low paying jobs far beneath his qualifications as long as they afforded him with free afternoons or preferably even a flexible work schedule. Charlie let him rent the small cottage he had inherited from some aunt or other, as he and Tonks were travelling most of the time, and demanded only a small lease, saying it was a task to keep their house, not a charity. Remus accepted gladly. By now he had become something of an honorary family member to all of the extended Weasley clan, originally due to his closeness with Harry and Bill, but later simply because everybody loved him and connected to him in some way or other.

Remus spent time at Shell Cottage as often as he could, tutoring all her children and assisting her where possible with anything she needed. He took care to educate her family about the customs of the Lycan society, Hermione listening with as much attention as her children did. While the boys trained in their various sports with William, however, Emilia was the only one to run with Remus.

Hermione and he had become close over the years. She had always admired him for his intelligence and bravery. The relationship between the two of them had strengthened steadily and considerably, day by day, due to him being Sire to William and Emilia, but also because he had become a very close friend to Hermione. They loved each other dearly; not as a romantic couple would, and certainly not as she loved her husband of close to twelve years, but rather in a way only two people who have created a child together can.

The hooting of the Hogwarts Express's horn drew her from her thoughts. William came to stand beside her and wrapped his arms around her as they watched the train depart, their two eldest children waving good-bye. Tears filled her eyes,  _from the steam,_  as she told herself, but couldn't be fooled. She would miss the two of them miserably, though her younger boys would be there to prove much of a challenge for her.

Remus stepped up to the family as the train disappeared around a corner.

"Time for me to go as well, I'm afraid," he said.

William unwound his arm from around Hermione's waist to clasp Remus's hand in a strong grip.

"You will be missed, Remus," her husband said, "but I am glad that in you, we have our own eyes and ears at Hogwarts to keep our children in check."

Hermione laughed, the bell-like sound visibly lifting the hearts of both her men.

"Oh, I highly doubt that they can be kept in check, William," she chuckled, "but if anybody could do it, it would be you, Remus."

She graced him with a warm smile.

"Please don't be a stranger," she pleaded. "You will always be welcome in our home. I know you have to stay at Hogwarts for at least part of the holidays, but we would be happy to have you at Shell Cottage whenever you can."

"I will write to you," Remus promised.

Then, the time had come to say their farewell.

"Hermione," Remus placed a kiss on her cheek. "William," he clapped her husband on the back. "Gentlemen," he finished, shaking Theodore and Elijah's hands, "try and behave a little. And if you don't –," Remus winked, " - don't let your mother see."

The boys erupted into wild giggles, and with a last nod to Bill and her, Remus turned on the spot and Disapparated.

"You heard the man," Bill announced. "Let's go home, boys.  _To the cottage_!" he shouted merrily.

" _To the cottage_!" the boys agreed.

Elijah, being the younger of the two, jumped onto his father's back and rode him out into the Muggle part of King's Cross, Theodore following close on their heels.

Hermione sighed contentedly. Waving at the assembled Weasleys and in-laws, she went after her three boys. Looking back, she had never been able to imagine such happiness as she now had in her life. Bill loved her above all else (excluding the kids, of course), their sons were growing into fine young men, Emilia had become everything a mother could wish for her daughter to be, and Remus had become a constant in their lives she would not want to miss.

 _All was well,_ Hermione concluded to herself as she stepped through the barrier and joined her family _, very well indeed._


End file.
